Persephone
by ix3youlotss
Summary: Draco/Hermione. 7th year opens sharply with many unexpected twists, and it just so happens that differences seem to be the only things left to bind people together. Draco seeks something that only a witch like Hermione can give to him. Read & Review!
1. The Master Himself

**Persephone**

**Authors Note: **AU! I've decided to start writing again, I know I haven't in quite some time, and I know I left two stories dwindling, but I have been working on both of them writing new chapters and such, but this story has been gathering in the secret dwellings of my mind for quite some time, and I felt as though it was now time to turn it from my notebook to something to share with you all. I am a huge Hermione/Draco fan and I felt this story to be something I could connect with on a personal level. I hope you enjoy it. The title will not yet be explained but for those of you that are pondering, it is pronounced like this, "Per-Sef-Oh!-Knee" not "per-sa-phone" like a telephone. Well, please read and review and I really hope you all enjoy this one. I know I will.

**Disclaimer: **While these characters and places are not mine, the emotions and events are, so enjoy them, but please do not claim them as your own. I crave individuality and creativity and I would be deeply saddened if someone tried to rob me of it.

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_Draco Lucius Malfoy. A name meant to demand instant respect from all those touched by it. Every lip that uttered it, should quiver in fear of its Master. Every ear that heard its rhythmic pattern should automatically recognize the emotions meant to be affiliated with that name. Those emotions born for the sole purpose of benefiting the Master of the very name that caused them. After all, Master is what he was. _

_He was Master of many. At merely 17 years of age he had already acquired a respectable amount of loyal servants. Yes, servants, for that is what they were, never to be considered friends. A Master does not require friends, just loyal servants to rule over. In addition to these loyal followers, was a list of women, captivated by this Masters mere presence. All beautiful, or at least attractive, for a Malfoy deserved no less. All perfectly willing to quench his lust. All fell to his sickeningly sweet charm. He was a gentleman after all, a showman of sorts. He knew just the part to play to keep his hoard of devoted followers clinging to every honey drenched word to roll off his lips._

_Why wouldn't they? They had every reason to love him the way that they did. His presence was never to go unnoticed. He was a remarkably attractive individual. Long and slender in every way. He was naturally muscular, of a strong build, but never husky. A pointed nose and slender mouth placed perfectly upon his pale face, so perfectly in fact that one would have thought he has sold his soul to Lucifer just to look the way that he did. Long, white-blonde hair swept to the side of his face as though it had finally given up an ever constant battle to obscure his vision and fallen victim to his will. His hands were soft, long delicate fingers, never calloused. A Malfoy never had calluses. A Malfoy never struggled through hard labor. _

_He was gorgeous in every way, but the most breathtaking element of his appearance was his eyes. His gorgeous, piercing eyes. They were of a striking blue-grey color, almost transparent as though made of glass. They were not ordinary, they were the kind you simply cannot find. Rarely do you meet a person with the kind of eyes that Draco Malfoy possessed. They had the power to change worlds, to turn oceans. They could be menacing or they could be soft. They showed both weakness and strength at the same time, for he was a man that possessed both. _

_Strength, oh yes he was a strong man. He walked into a room and all heads turned. He was powerful, Malfoy magic was known to be great, and his wealth only added to his influence. But he was also weak. It is an ironic sort of thing how two traits so different can be so easily intertwined, how they can feed off each other and thrive in the presence of one another, but it was his weaknesses that made him strong. Though before any individual can acquire full strength, they must first recognize and fall victim to their weaknesses, for that is the only way to overcome them. _

_He knew this, and he searched the depths of his mind for these weaknesses, and though some were easily found, dealt with and discarded, something remained, preventing him from climbing to the top and becoming the horrendously powerful, content individual that he longed to become. He was determined to find this weakness and fill the void that grew in his soul, and as with any great romance, his search began unexpectantly, with a girl..._

"Master Draco, Missus sends Morrie to fetch you! It is time for Hogwarts Master Draco! Missus shall punish Morrie if Master Draco is late!" The house-elf Morrie scampered around the foot of the grand oak bed in the center of Draco's bedroom. The thick silver comforter matched the drapes hanging over the windows, looking out to the great Malfoy estate. Emerald green walls were lined with shelves upon shelves of books. More books were piled upon a desk in the corner and even more books adorned the mantle over the fireplace.

He raised himself from the warmth of his bed and shook silvery-blonde locks of hair out of his grey-blue eyes. He staggered into his own personal bathroom and removing his night clothes stepped into the magnificent shower. As he felt the scalding hot water run from the white gold shower head onto his own, and wash away his sleep, he slowly entered into reality.

September the First.

Hogwarts.

A sinking feeling set into the very pit of his stomach as he stepped out of the shower, not bothering to cover himself or take care not to splash tidal waves of soapy water onto the solid marble floors. He did not bother with petty tribulations such as that. That is what house-elves were for. Water drizzled down his cheekbones, trickled from his jaw, dripped from his eyelashes, but he did not care to notice. He peered at his own reflection in the mirror, looking himself up and down, as though inspecting, looking for impurities or flaws. Looking for weakness.

When he found nothing he sighed and walked into his closet. He dried himself with a soft, emerald green towel that seemed to have appeared just as he needed it, and he then selected an outfit worthy of this memorious occasion. Today marked the end. The seventh and final year, that he would wake up on September the First, and trade one Hell for another.

He pulled simple black slacks up around his waist and a grey sweater over his sturdy shoulders before bending to tie a pair of sleek black dress shoes. He never wore sneakers. He was a man of business and he was expected to keep his appearance, suave and devonaire. He exited his closet and called for his elf.

"Morrie!" A crack like a whip sounded and the elf appeared at his side. "Pack my closet into my trunk, all of it will do with going, I don't think I will be returning after I leave today."

The elf bowed low to him and set out to complete his task as Draco glidded back into his bedroom. He became to comb his bookshelves and mantle, taking time to select only those books that remained the most precious or useful to him, and when he had his collection, he set them in his trunk alongside his still unopened textbooks.

By this point in time Draco decided it was time to trod down the spiral staircase and bid adeu to his father and mother before setting out for Kings Cross Station. They of course would not accompany him. He was 17 years old and perfectly capable of walking through a silly brick wall on his own. He pinned the recently polished Head Boy badge to his sweater and walked downstairs to face his parents.

--

**Authors Note: **Yay for character building chapters! Don't you just LOVE them. This one was slightly short I must say, but it's just a taste. Oh, tad bit of amusing information for you here. The muse for the house-elfs name, Morrie, came when I was laying in bed and looked up at my Jim Morrison poster. Thought some of you Doors fans might appreciate that! Well, read and review and hopefully I'll have an update for you sooner than you think :)


	2. An Awkward Ride

**Authors Note: **Well hopefully you all liked my first chapter. It was a little short and sweet, but of course essential. This one you'll hopefully like a lot better, for this is where to plot thickens. I've decided I won't be introducing any unfamiliar characters as of yet, perhaps this will change in the future, but I think perhaps I would prefer to toy with those that J.K Rowling has already given to me.

**ginsensu: **Haha, yes Draco is a little full of himself, but that is of course what makes him so interesting, not to mention incredibly gorgeous don't you think? Don't you worry though, attitudes will change a lot in the future.

**reader101: **Well thank you, I enjoyed writing it!

**DaOnLeeSam: **I'm glad you approve. Hopefully this update was quick enough for you!

**Disclaimer: **Oh I wish... Oh I wish... Oh I wish I was the Harry Potter author. To be the author oh it would be fun. And if I were the Harry Potter author. I would be a magnificent one.

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Draco descended the steps to the Malfoy's private dining hall. While not much smaller than the dining hall they used to host parties, it was noticably more compacted. This was the place where the Malfoy family spent the most time together. The only time Lucius wasn't away on business or committing an evil act for his beloved Dark Lord, was when the Malfoy family gathered for a meal. Breakfast was always at 8, lunch at 12 and dinner at 7. This schedule had long ago become the only thing left of stability for this shattered remain of a family.

As Draco reached the ground level of the towering mansion, he remembered. He thought back to before he had entered Hogwarts, when Voldemort was still in hiding and his father was still a father. He remembered very vividly how things used to be, he remembered his father teaching him to ride a broom. He was seven at the time.

_"No Draco, you cannot simply will yourself to fly, you need to put concentration into this. Now let go of that fear and kick up off the ground."_

A few months prior to that time, Draco had fallen from his fathers broom, and after spending a night in St. Mungo's he was not very happy to be back on a broom. While he wanted to fly like all the great Quidditch players he adored, he simply feared such heights since he had taken that fall. His fathers somewhat calming, steady voice came to mind.

_"Look, Draco, stop whimpering and just push up, don't do it hard, kick like you're standing on your tip toes."_

Draco remembered that day above any other in his memory. It was the only day he could recall that his father had spent completely devoute to him. Draco finally reached his destination and strode into the dining hall to find his mother and father had just sit down to breakfast. He sat to his fathers right, across the table from his mother. He began to fill his plate with bacon and eggs.

"Well, I'm packed and ready to leave. I figure I'll set out once breakfast is finished." Draco stated, gazing towards his mothers line of vision. "I don't think I'll be coming back after graduation..." He averted his gaze.

"Of course you won't. After graduation you'll undoubtably have a task to complete." His father droned in a monotonous tone, not caring to look up from his copy of _The Daily Prophet_.

Draco cringed at the thought, he knew what kind of task his father meant, and he was not at all looking forward to completing anything of the sort. While he agreed with many of his fathers views and opinions, he had a great distaste for Voldemort and his methods. Draco did not care to enter into his service, now or ever.

"It will be great for you Draco, you will make me so proud." Lucius smiled a crooked grin and looked up at his only son expectantly. Draco swallowed hard.

"I'm sure I will, father."

Draco finished eating his breakfast and got up to leave the table. He exited wordlessly and returned to his room. He looked around one final time, taking in his surroundings. He wondered if he would miss it. He was very fond of this room. It was his sancuary, his haven in times of trouble, a place to escape when he could not handle the pressures of the outside world. He would spend days at a time under the blankets of his massive bed, surrounded by books, allowing himself to be carried off to distant lands, or mesmorising himself with new knowledge. He had a great love for literature, he even had an abundance of great Muggle literature, hidden away of course, for fear of his father gaining knowledge of this fact about his son.

While Draco detested Muggles, he could not help but be amazed by their creativity. He would amuse himself with the many plays written by Shakespeare, or he would laugh at the absurd ideas of great Muggle philosophers such as Aristotle and Socrates and Plato. While Draco knew better than to believe any of these Muggle excuses and theories, he always loved that they could find a "logical" explanation for anything magical.

Draco crossed the floor to the window and lifted up the couch seat embedded into the wall underneath the window sill. There was a storage unit here, and from it he pulled his Muggle books and packed them neatly into his trunk. Now thoroughly satisfied that he had packed away anything of importance he pulled his black Hogwarts robes over his shoulders, the great Slytherin serpant upon his chest and he lifted his trunk.

Draco carried his trunk into the front entrance hall and set it down, he then strode into the parlor and took his owls cage from its stand. Opening the parlor window his whistled in a peircingly high volume. After a few minutes, a magnificent black eagle-owl flew in through the window and landed on Dracos outstretched arm.

Draco adored this owl. He stroked the feathers on the tops of its head before speaking to it.

"Now Dante, we leave, we're never coming back to this hell hole either, isn't that exciting?" Draco smirked before putting the animal in its cage. He was finally ready to leave. Without saying goodbye to his parents, he grabbed a handful of floo powder from a pot beside the fireplace and throwing it into the flames, shouted "Platform 9 and 3/4!" and disappeared in a whirl of green flame.

Draco watched the gates fly past him as Dante cawed in an annoyed tone. The bird would never be used to traveling by fireplace. At long last Draco reached his gate and stepped out of the fireplace. He looked up to see the magnificent scarlet steam engine infront of him. He looked at his wristwatch, 10:30, he had arrived in plenty of time.

Deciding to go ahead and claim a compartment before having to attend to his Head Boy duties, he boarded the train. Dragging his trunk to his usual compartment, he found it already occupied, and of all the people in the world, is was the three he was the most surprised to see. He opened the door.

"This is my compartment." He uttered in a deathly quiet voice.

"What the hell are you on about? We were here first, these compartments aren't assigned." Ron Weasley jumped at the chance for an arguement. This did not phase Draco in the least.

"I've sat in this compartment every year since first, I would appreciate it if you would do be the courtesy to choose another." Draco drawled out.

"Merlin's beard if I'll be doing _you_ a courtesy." Ron retorted, voice dripping with distaste, looking to his best mate as though searching for agreement. Harry Potter nodded, gaze still focused on Draco, a look of utter hatred upon his face.

Draco surveyed the compartment. He looked at each of them as though trying to decide whether to persist or to find another compartment. Weasley's brow was bent in anger, this amused Draco to no end, knowing how easily he could bother the gingerheaded boy. Harry's expression was of pure malice, it almost worried Draco, knowing he was the target of that anger. Though he did not voice nor show it, he respected Harry Potter deeply. Draco would not deny that his long time enemy was powerful, nor that he had the guts of a lion.

Draco shifted his gaze to the third person in the room. Almost completely hidden behind a book, chocolate brown eyes stared back at him. Then, it a rather quiet voice, she spoke.

"You're welcome to stay here, but we aren't leaving."

Draco couldn't believe it! She was toying with him. He continued to stare at her. He didn't know how to respond to that. Alright, he thought. If she's going to toy with him, he might as well play along. He threw his trunk in the overhead compartment and took the seat beside her.

He looked contemplatively at each of them again before pulling a book out of his bag and beginning to read. This would be an interesting journey.

Harry and Ron looked from Draco to Hermione, to one another. Confused, Ron shrugged.

Hermione, astonished at what was happening before her, decided it best not to say anything. She watched as Draco read his book, he looked contemplative, as though searching for the answer to a particularly troubling question. She could not help but to notice how gorgeous his blue-grey eyes really were. She was mesmorized, watching them dance back and forth as he followed the words on the paper. He glanced up at her from his book and realizing she had been watching him, he winked.

Startled, Hermione hid behind her copy of _Hogwarts, A History_ and blushed.


End file.
